Copacetic
by strangesleep
Summary: He smiled, but this time his eyes looked dark and empty, and maybe a bit sad. "I wasn't planning," he said softly, "on letting you leave." Marlin/OC, rated M just to be sure.
1. Chapter 1

May 1972 Forget-Me-Not Valley

The Inn was never a still place.

Even on a quiet day, the clanking of pots and pans and the unmistakable smell of hot spice and beer signaled to the outside world that the Inn was, indeed, very much alive. Soft music would come from the chipped portable radio in the kitchen, a soothing siren that dragged tired vagabonds, dusty from the latest trip, into empty rooms and to the dinner table.

_"Used to be my life was just emotions passing by _  
_Feeling all the while and never really knowing why..."_

Tonight the Inn was louder. The foyer was warm, even on a brisk night like tonight. A mosaic of extreme body heat and warm food gave forth gentle perspiration.

The reason? A new guest. Well, not guest, no. Not quite.

...

Just across from the Inn was the remnants of an old farm: a barn, a coop, a shed, idle soil, a house. A man had come from the city: a glitzy man, not much tolerance for tranquility or a hard day's toil in the pasture. Hell, he probably didn't know what a pasture was before he had come.

But he caught on as quickly as a city boy could. He learned how most new farmers do: the hard way. Some months, his family (a wife, ten years his junior, and a small child, a daughter) would barely have enough to eat. Some months, he would have enough to pay the next couple months' rent.

The man would let his daughter, a wild and rough thing, come and stay during the summers. Her mother would protest. "_Stay,_ _it's dangerous in the valley." _she'd plead. The man always had his way and the child when come stay until school began in the fall. The little girl, simply named Eleanor after her young mother, charmed some villagers with her abundance of life and others, well others found her to be the town's demon.

Of course, after many summers, the man grew sick and old. He would collapse often. His bones grew brittle and his heart would often give. His lungs weren't what they once were, he'd joke. With shaky hands and poor eyesight, he wrote a single letter to his only child, his daughter of 28, just before passing away quietly.

_Eleanor,_  
_It's been so long since I've seen you, heard you, spoken to you. You must know, if your mother has said anything, that my health is not well. I fear my time is coming, eh?Don't cry. I know you wouldn't, regardless. Too tough, too strong. _  
_That's the reason for this letter I suppose. I won't be around to care for you or your mother. She isn't well either, I know. Watch over her, take care of her the way I did and do your best for the both of us. I also had one more thing to ask of you:_  
_The farm. It's your choice, of course. But I know you'll do the right thing. The farm, Eleanor._

_Papa_

_..._

Marlin sat outside the bustling Inn. It was so uncharacteristic of him, so unusual, to be here. To be around them all, the other villagers. He absently brought his smoking hand up to his chin and smiled a dark smile.

_Oh yeah, I quit. _He twisted his mouth. He ran the hand he had brought up through his thick, black, curly hair.

Inside the Inn was hell. It was hot, it was sticky, the music was terrible and all he could hear was the excited chatter about something as meaningless as a newcomer.

"A girl!"  
"A girl farmer?"  
"What's wrong with that?"  
"She's single-"  
"She can marry."  
"It's so much work."  
"A LOT of work."  
"Is she pretty?"  
"The old farmer's daughter, how marvelous.."  
"He'd be proud."  
"A GIRL."  
"She won't last a week."

He'd had just about enough. Who cares? He'd he sleeping peacefully if his older sister Vesta hadn't forced him. Then again, Vesta forced him to do too much. Was he a man, did he have balls? He sighed. If Celia hadn't come..beautiful Celia. His eye had been on her sweet frame for such a long time. Those eyes, that smile. He groaned softly and leaned back in the chair sitting against the wood building. Even the outside of the Inn smelled comforting, but he would never admit that. He exhaled, frustrated. A cigarette, that's all he needed. A pack, or two.

The Valley children broke loose from the inviting inferno that was the old Inn and screamed excitedly, tagging and chasing. The lack of kids was almost a blessing, in Marlin's eyes. Back in the city, you had to be careful when turning a corner of groups of racing children, who would knock you down without a single apology. They were just as loud and sticky as the Inn was.

The rotting wooden doors of the Inn were open now, perhaps the townsfolk had finally come to their senses. The relief of cold was a blessing from the Harvest Goddess, of course. Maybe it was the sounds of hot tire on a dusty road that brought them outside into the cool night.

_**Pucker-pucker**_

That noise was unmistakable. Marlin knew that it all too well. It was almost soothing: a city sound, a busy-street sound, a hey-man-fuck-you roadrage sound. A car.

Marlin leaned back in the plastic lawn chair so kindly provided by the Inn owner, Tim. Coming toward them, a 1960 Ford Pickup truck. A metal grating sound, a burnt out headlight, bad shocks, worn-down tires, large rust spots layered on what used to be a sky-blue coat..

_Yep, it's a total piece of shit. _Marlin smirked and stood to stretch his tired legs, which shook restlessly.

Stunned from both the shock of algid night air and the din of such a beastly machine, people slowly began trickling out. Was this the new girl, the girl promising for months to come and work?

Windows rolled down, dust flying, music blaring.

_"..Rave on, there beneath the silvery moon,_  
_Dont stop your carburetor ,_  
_Let your car run.."_

The truck came to a violent stop and the one headlight went black and cold. Some backed up, afraid the old thing would explode right there, it's beat-up engine puckering and popping as it stalled and stopped. The radius of engine heat consumed the crowd. The music from the car's radio ceased quickly and, with a swift bump and kick from the driver, the heavy metal door flew open and a thin figure stepped into the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

She turned to slam the shaky car door, and the whole truck shook and convulsed like an elderly man. In the back, two medium-sized suitcases and a few paper grocery bags with the name of a supermarket most had never heard of. Gentle murmurs came from the children and their parents, and Marlin decided that the drawn out silence sounded more like a cool mixture of awe and fear than excitement.

Takakura, in his old age, took her thin hand gently and shook it with a small smile. This gesture from such a gruff old man was strange, almost sweet. Marlin wished he could just leave now; this girl meant absolutely nothing to him and the Siberian wind bit at his skin. Home sounded abnormally nice right now.

"Eleanor, welcome-"  
"Uncle T," the girl interrupted and made a face, the sort of look a young child makes when something of foul smell reaches them. It couldn't be the sweet valley air, no. "Eleanor is my mother. Just El. Always El."

Marlin laughed mentally. _What __constitutes __as __checking __someone __out? _he wondered. There's wasn't much to see; the girl was thin, with an almost boy-like figure. Nothing was striking or breath-taking about her. Big brown eyes, moon-shaped nose, small mouth, long brown hair pulled out of her unevenly tanned face. Marlin had seen so many women who fit this description it nearly made him sick.

The only thing that was noteworthy in Marlin's mind was the passionate amount of energy this girl had. Oh, she tried to hide it, he could tell. But her body nearly vibrated when she was still. When stillness could not be achieved, her movements were quick, biting, demanding. She talked with her whole body. Her whole petite body.

The congregation chattered excitedly. Everything was asked, from her most recent memory of her father's farm to her favorite color. El seemed overwhelmed by how easily they met her energy and vigor, and she excitedly gave back. The more she gave to them, the more was given back. Her hand was shaken at least twice by every villager, her head patted a few times by the older folk, and a playful pinch on the rear by Rock, which was returned with a impish smile and a disapproving glance from Uncle T, as she so casually put it.

...

Eventually, as the excitement wore down and sleepy children began rubbing their eyes and drifting to sleep, and families departed with smiles and waves. The younger, single adults, not ready for the excitement to end, made their way to the bar. El was the guest of honor, and drinking was a fun game for those with no children.

The Blue Bar reminded El of a cool cave. It was dark with a light breeze from the overhead fan. It smelled like smoke and shame, a ruthless mix. Bottles of shiny liquor armed the walls, like trophies of battles won. No one won those battles, of course. To her, Muffy smelled like the bar too; musky and cool. Of course, she wouldn't let her know that.

_Man, __this __Griffin __guy __is __smooth, _El thought. _I'm __surprised __he __hasn't __knocked __up __Muffy __yet. _She smiled a little and kept her eyes on the smooth liquid in the glass in front of her. Muffy swore it was worth drinking, and El had no mind to argue with her.

Griffin continued to slide drinks across the bar. El drank whatever he gave her; being picky when it came to alcohol wasn't something she was known for back in the city. To be honest, the things she had been known for in the city made her ashamed. This thought, in turn, made her drink more than she thought she would have tonight. She downed one after another, Griffin only noticing the amount of liquor she'd consumed when he'd pour her some more. She counted the amount she consumed.

_1..2..3..4..5..6.._

Marlin's interest in the scene faltered quickly. Celia wasn't a drinker, no. She had gone home hours ago and Marlin wondered if she had gotten home safe. Of course she had, Vesta was with her. He shook his head a little. Griffin pulled a pack of stale cigarettes out of his cotton shirt's pocket.

"Can I.." Marlin pointed nonchalantly to the cardboard package Griffin held.

"Thought you quit." Griffin glanced at Marlin and looked away as he lit his first and leaned against the back wall.

"Guess not." Marlin grunted. Griffin handed him one as well and lit it for him. He took a drag and tried to mask his cough. _The __doctors __promised ,_he thought bitterly. _They __promised __the valley __air __would __make __the __coughing __stop. __They __told __me __the __sickness __would __subside. __Bullshit. __Fucking __shit._

"What?"

Marlin looked up with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. El was looking at him with an intensity, a sort of stabbing worry in her large eyes. He raised his eyebrows.

"Huh?" He mumbled through his cigarette, unaware he had even said one word to her all night.

"Oh. You said shit. I thought maybe something was wrong." El mumbled and sighed, turning back to her glass. Her voice had a soft lilt, a touch of an accent Marlin couldn't quite place. Marlin could tell just by looking at her rosy cheeks and softly slurred speech she'd had too much to drink.

_What __a __way __to __ring __in __the __first __night __of __a __new __life. _He breathed in the heavy smoke and let it out in a large puff.

"You alright, kid?" He shifted so his body leaned against the bar. She looked up sleepily.

"..'Sfine." She leaned her chin against her small hands and closed her eyes, focusing on the soothing sound of the droning bar music, the sounds of ice and clinking glass. Focus left her eyes. The soft light of the bar seemed unimportant.

"I'm going to drive her home. She can't even make it off the barstool at this point." Marlin ran a hand through his thick hair yet again and put out his cigarette before tapping her on the shoulder and opening the front door, and when she didn't register the gesture, Marlin grabbed her wrist roughly. He climbed in the piece of shit truck she had parked outside, and watched with mild impatience as she slowly crawled into the car next to him. The keys were in the ignition. _How __stupid __are __you. _He scoffed.

The truck stalled along the dirt road. Marlin swore at this piece of crap machinery, this joke on wheels. She had parked it right outside the Inn, and thankfully the poor car didn't have far to go; a sharp left. The hard part was trying to find a place to park the mammoth. Marlin finally found an empty spot behind the pasture fence, a fine parking spot for now. She wouldn't be needing this death trap in this valley.

...

The door needed some gentle coaxing to open: Marlin gave it a kick and pushed it with his shoulder and it slowly gave. He glanced over at the ranchette, a tiny thing dressed in jeans and flannel, glossy drunk eyes staring out the window into the woods. Her head lulled gently to one side, and she looked at the handsome man with intoxicated exhaustion.

"Get out, or you'll sleep in the cold." He said shortly.

El didn't understand the request. Piece by piece, it began making sense.

_Out..cold.._

El slid to the driver's seat and managed to step out. Her legs felt heavy and light at the same time, her head swam. All she could focus on were little bits of light and the face of a man she had just barely met. She leaned into him and closed her eyes. _Just __for __a __second. _She felt her body slide down and her mind went blank.


End file.
